


First Impressions

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, M/M, Phil needs a night off, Pre-Slash, clint is flexible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is busy with school, work, the ROTC and just surviving college. He doesn't have time to socialize, but he has friends. His friends won't shut up about some guy named Barton. Phil decides he must be a jerk, but then he gets to meet him. He's not a jerk, and also? He's hot as hell. And nice. And Phil is doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiining](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/gifts).



> A tumblr prompt got too long. Hope you enjoy! For raiining.

“Oh my god, did you see Clint last night?” Maria asked Natasha around a bite of her double decker hamburger.

Maria was wearing green sweat pants, a red flannel over a black tank top, and she had her hair pulled back in a very messy ponytail. Phil thought she looked like she just rolled out of bed. It was noon.

“Top form, huh?” Natasha replied.

Phil shifted his gaze between his study partners, and wondered aloud, “Who’s Clint?”

Natasha side-eyed him and then looked back at Maria. “He said he won a twenty-five dollar bet.”

“God, he’s insane,” Maria replied, and Phil decided he didn’t care. He definitely didn’t need insane people in his life.

“Can we please study?” Phil asked.

Natasha took a long pull on the milkshake she was drinking and nodded. “Sure. I want to compare notes first.”

Phil handed her his notebook and she raised an eyebrow when she saw the neat pages of history notes.

“Nice, Coulson.”

They all aced the exam the next day.

The next time he heard the name was that Saturday. He was playing mini golf with Jasper and Sam, and Sam had just sunk a two-putt.

He pulled off his Yankees baseball hat and grinned that gorgeous wide grin of his. “Beat that!”

Phil glowered. It was a crazy hole. “That’s impossible. You just made an impossible shot.”

Jasper laughed. “We’ll start to call you Barton,” he said to Sam.

“Dude,” Sam replied, stretching his club over his head. “That guy can’t be beat.”

“He told me he once got an 18 on the whole course,” Jasper said as he made his shot. It didn’t even make it past the first obstacle. At least Phil had a chance to beat him.

What Jasper had said sunk in. “An 18?” Phil asked. “That’s impossible.”

Jasper and Sam spoke at once. “Not for Barton.”

The next day he met up with Bruce and Tony to work on a physics project. Tony was hardly coherent.

“Did you drink all night?” Phil asked. Tony was red-eyed and slumped over his notes.

“Not all night. I just lost a bet.”

Bruce laughed. “Big time.”

Phil looked at Bruce for more information.

“Barton bet Tony that he could outmatch him shot for shot, his way. Turns out, well,” Bruce said, gesturing at Tony. “Tony lost.”

“Cost me fifty bucks, too, goddammit,” Tony mumbled into his notebook.

“Barton’s amazing,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “Do you know him?”

Phil frowned. It seemed he should know the guy. Everyone else did. “No. Never met him.”

“If you came out with us, like ever, you would,” Tony stated, sitting up long enough to take a gulp of coffee.

“Lay off him, Tony,” Bruce said, looking at Phil apologetically.

“He’d like him, though,” Tony protested, and Bruce just shrugged.

The thing was, Phil didn’t socialize much, at least not late at night and definitely not on the bar scene. He had a scholarship to maintain, he worked at the library twenty hours a week in addition to his sixteen credits worth of classes, and he was in the ROTC program, which ate up most of his free time. He didn’t have time to party, and this Clint Barton dude sounded like a bit of a jerk and a showoff. Phil hated showoffs.

He liked getting an unexpected night off from work thanks to a favor a coworker owed him and decided to honor. He had a Saturday night free for the first time all semester. Of course, Sam and Jasper found out and insisted he come out with them that night. They even dragged Natasha and Maria into the pestering, so Phil resigned himself and said yes. He didn’t drink much, but Natasha said none of them except Tony really went out to get trashed. Phil wondered about Barton, though, if he matched Tony shot for shot. The guy must be able to drink. Phil sighed and figured he’d go out for a couple hours and then slide away and back home in time to watch a few episodes of something before he crashed.

“Phil, this is Clint,” Natasha said as Phil approached the front door to the bar. He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk when he saw Clint. No one said anything, and he righted himself in time to reach out and shake Clint’s calloused hand. Clint was. . . gorgeous.

He was a shorter guy, which was surprising, and his blond hair was messy and inviting, but it was his eyes that made Phil trip. He couldn’t figure out what color they were, just that he wanted to stare into them for the rest of the night, and they twinkled when the guy smiled at Phil. He had a crooked, endearing smile, the farthest thing from a cocky grin, and it seemed like Clint was smiling just for him, even though Phil knew he was just being polite. Phil suddenly wished he’d paid more attention to his appearance before coming tonight.

Phil was wearing jeans and an old grey sweater over a button down – his standard nerd gear, according to Natasha. Nothing special. Clint wasn’t dressed up either, but somehow Phil just wanted to peel the black leather jacket and green t-shirt off of him on first sight. Phil thought the jeans he was wearing should be illegal.

They shook hands, and Clint added, “I’m glad you came tonight. I’ve heard a lot about you,” and fuck if he didn’t sound sincere to Phil, like he really was glad. It sent a shiver down Phil’s spine.

They all went inside, and while Maria, Jasper, Sam, Natasha and Tony all ordered stiff drinks, Phil noticed that Bruce and Clint both just ordered soda, along with Phil. He watched as Clint joined the conversation but never claimed center stage, particularly not the way Tony did. Phil felt instantly comfortable with Clint, like he was an old friend from years ago, and he found himself talking to him about classes, the college, and a few professors they had in common. He was easy to talk to.

As the others grew steadily tipsy, Phil saw that Clint alternated between soda and a local beer, and as the night wore on, Phil and Clint inched closer to each other so they could talk while the others laughed and danced and got generally more rowdy. They decided to go to a different bar, and on the way, Jasper made Phil realize where Clint’s reputation came from.

“Hey Barton, what’s your record time to the top of the old oak tree?” Jasper asked, his words slurring a bit.

Clint laughed, and Phil found himself staring again.

“Up and down in thirty-three.”

“Seconds?” Phil said. The tree was at least thirty feet high, with tangled branches, some spread out at least one and a half times Clint’s height.

Clint nodded, and Tony chimed in, “Twenty bucks says you can’t do it in thirty-one.”

“Tony,” Bruce said, shaking his head, “How many times are you going to hand Barton your money?”

Tony frowned. “There’s no way he can do this. He got me on thirty-three. Not gonna make thirty-one.”

Clint smirked and peeled off the jacket he was wearing and handed it to Phil. “Hold this for me?” he asked, and Phil took his jacket wordlessly, ignoring the chills that rolled down his arms as he stared at Clint’s corded arms.

Clint rubbed his hands together and Phil shook himself – he was way too distracted by what Clint was doing with his body. It didn’t work, though, because Clint looked at Tony, gave an enthusiastic clap, and said, “Start the timer. I got this.”

Tony yelled, “Go!” and Clint was shimmying up the tree like he was part of it, grabbing holds that Phil couldn’t even see, his fingers deftly gripping bark and anything else he could hang onto. He climbed, his muscles rippling under his t-shirt, his body seeming like it could do anything, and Phil’s brain went offline. He imagined those hands and those muscles holding him. . . fuck it – he was imagining Clint climbing him like that tree. He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore his pants.

Clint was already on his way down, and Tony was groaning. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, as he stared at his watch as Clint’s feet touched the ground. “Thirty seconds.”

Maria and Natasha both said, “Twenty bucks for thirty seconds.”

Tony glared at them.

“Too easy, Stark,” Clint said, brushing his hands off on his jeans and reaching for his jacket from Phil. “Hey, Phil,” he added, and Phil realized he was gripping Clint’s jacket tightly, not giving it back.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered, and let go of the jacket. Clint gave him a smirk in return, and Phil felt his face flush.

They headed onto the next bar, and Clint bought himself and Phil a beer.

“One last beer?” Phil asked, clanking his bottle with Clint’s.

Clint smiled, “Yeah. On good nights I do one at the end.” He shrugged. “This has been a good night.”

It was almost one in the morning, and he and Clint had been just chatting for several hours. Tony accused them of being boring, Maria was definitely tipsy and called them both adorable, and Natasha held her liquor like a champ and just gave Clint and Phil a few knowing glances.

As they left the bar and zipped their jackets against the cold, Clint looked at Phil with a smile. “I’m glad you came tonight, Phil. It really was good to meet you.”

Phil found himself a little tongue-tied, and he just nodded.

Clint chuckled and reached over to Natasha’s purse and pulled a pen out. He leaned over Phil and grabbed his hand, and proceeded to write a phone number on Phil’s palm. “That’s me,” he said. “We should go out.”

Phil just stared at the ink on his hand for a second and then looked back up at Clint. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Is that okay?”

“You’re not what I expected,” Phil caught himself blurting out. He blushed at the same time.

Clint laughed. “Yeah? Why not?”

Phil shrugged, and bit his lip before answering. “Tony said you beat him shot for shot, Sam said you were bragging about mini-golf, and Natasha and Maria were going on about you winning a bet for something one night. I just figured. . . well, that you’d be different.”

Clint cocked his head. “Huh. Well, I beat Tony shot for shot in that he had to take a shot every time I hit a bullseye with my bow one night, I won twenty-five bucks for doing three flips off the roof of Jasper’s house because I grew up in a circus and can make easy money off my gymnastic tricks, and I did get an 18 on a mini-golf course because I have perfect aim. It’s more like a party trick than anything important, though.”

Phil smiled. “Can I see you shoot your bow sometime?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Any time.”

“And you really think we should go out?” Phil asked.

Clint smiled, stepped into Phil’s space, and planted a swift kiss on his cheek, making Phil’s entire body thrum. “Yeah, definitely.”

Phil nodded furiously. He didn’t care if he looked like a dork. “Okay, yes. Good. I’m glad I came tonight. I’m glad you came tonight.”

Maria stepped over and grabbed Phil’s elbow. “Say goodnight, Phil. Before you embarrass yourself.”

Clint and Phil both laughed, which Phil took as a good sign. “Goodnight,” he said.

Clint stepped back and gave him a little wave. “Goodnight, Phil,” he replied, and he and Natasha turned and headed the other direction.

Phil ignored Tony’s “I knew you two would hit it off, but damn, Coulson. You’re smooth,” and started thinking about his calendar for the week. He wondered idly if he could swing one more night off next weekend, too. Surely someone else owed him a favor.

He was ready to cash in.

 


End file.
